


Finally

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual Somnophilia, Implied Slash, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd kept his word - now it was finally time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally

Stiles was asleep, breaths deep and even. He smelled of contentment, utter relaxation and satiation. He smelled of Derek. He smelled of home.

Gently pressing on his shoulder to push him over more fully onto his stomach, Derek held himself over Stiles’ body, sniffing delicately at the nape of his neck. Using all of his senses, he let his nose drift down the length of Stiles’ spine, stopping occasionally to lick at a lurid bruise, to gently nose at more obvious tooth marks. The skin of Stiles’ back was littered with marks of passion—Derek’s marks. And it satisfied him at a bone-deep level to see them. A small smile crossed his face as he realised that the markings were stronger wherever there was a mole—it had been such a longed-for pleasure to trace, map, discover each and every single mole on the creamy terrain. He’d done that now. And he would do so again.

With gentle hands, Derek caressed the curves of Stiles’ ass cheeks—plump yet taut, they too were decorated with marks. Fingertip sized bruises that fit exactly the span of Derek’s hand, teeth marks where his wolf had felt the need to taste deeper. But the aroma here was so much stronger and calling to him.

He wanted to let Stiles sleep but…

Thumbs traced the line that bisected the two plump mounds before separating them oh so gently. He pressed his face to the beginning of the crack of Stiles’ ass, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the basest smell of Stiles’ possible. Pulling the cheeks apart, he hissed a breath. Stiles’ asshole was a wreck. No longer a pretty pink, tight pucker—it was red, puffy and swollen, a silent testament to Derek’s vigorous claiming. The scent here was a combination of them both—a syzygy of the two of them despite the careful cleansing Derek had undertaken with a warm wet cloth. Part of him felt guilty at the clear evidence of his determined assault on Stiles’ body—there would be no doubt in any supernatural creatures in the area’s mind that Stiles had been well and truly taken and belonged to Derek. Humans would no doubt read other clues—the hitch that would no doubt be in his step. Perhaps a slightly change in his attitude and demeanour now that the questions and doubting were over—as far as Derek was concerned anyway. No one would be left in any doubt—Stiles was not only pack, he was Derek’s.

The first lick was conciliatory—a silent apology. But the taste of he and Stiles combined, the feel of hot, swollen flesh on his tongue made the second lick more about desire than apology. He was only vaguely aware of making himself comfortable between the spread of Stiles’ legs; the gentle hands holding the cheeks apart taking a firmer grip; he licked and sucked, tasting, enjoying, and bathing his face in their combined scent. Slowly the muscles loosened, the pucker unfurled and he could taste more, reach deeper with his tongue, until he was almost French-kissing Stiles’ ass, chasing the traces of his come that were still inside.

“Jesus fucking Christ Derek!” So engrossed he hadn’t even registered all the signs that Stiles was awake but the exclamation muffled by a pillow dragged him back to himself. Reluctantly moving back and releasing Stiles’ ass, he levered himself up so that he was lying directly over the lean body. Carefully, so that he didn’t crush him, he lowered himself onto Stiles, a sub-vocal growl escaping as he watched his dick come to rest almost automatically against the curve of Stiles’ ass. “Hard to breathe with over 200 lbs. of man-wolf on top of me.”

“If you can talk, you can breathe.”

“Bastard.” Pressing his lips to the nape of Stiles’ neck, he inhaled a deep breath. God, that scent. Wrecked him each and every time.

“Not according to my parents’ marriage certificate.”

“Why the hell does everyone think you don’t talk? I mean, I don’t talk half as much as everyone claims I do, but you **definitely** talk way more than anyone thinks you do. And it’s not a lack of humour—although you’re nowhere near as funny as you think you are.”

“Maybe because I only do it with you.”

“What, this? I hope so—we may not have talked about it but I’m all about the monogamy and I thought wolves mated for life so if you’re planning on sniffing around other people then—erm, then—“

Derek froze, waiting to hear what Stiles would say. There was no question in his mind about what they were—he hadn’t held himself back from claiming Stiles until decisions about college had been made for nothing. Stiles’ had made the decision to go to college local to Beacon Hills without any undue pressure or influence from Derek. He had kept his promise to the Sheriff about time and space but now that Stiles was over the age of consent, all bets were off. Derek had waited long enough—Stiles had been uncertain about how Derek felt for long enough. They were together now and that was it. 

“No appropriate threat?”

“I was hoping you would interrupt with protestations of how you would never consider looking at anyone else, especially since you just had your tongue up my ass.”

“Do I need to?”

“What, put your tongue back up my ass? Maybe—or maybe some wolfy-healing fingers because my ass hurts. Like, a lot.”

“No, protest that I won’t look at anyone else.” Taking the hint or rather direct order, Derek slipped his hand between their bodies and concentrated for a moment, carefully leaching away the residual aches from Stiles’ body. He felt Stiles’ body relax as the aches drifted away, then relax even more until he was practically melted into the bed.

“Would you?” It was distracting how completely relaxed Stiles’ was—there wasn’t even a hint of self-consciousness or unease. It was yet another thing that the wolf loved—Stiles had grown into himself and his body—had a full understanding of his own worth. He didn’t care about six packs and white teeth, cheekbones and thick hair—he was all about the Derek he had forced to the surface. Everyone else could be swooning over the body and the looks—Stiles had the real Derek.

“No.”

“Then no reason to threaten.”

“Cocky.”

“No. I just know when something’s mine. And you are, aren’t you? You, your wolf—all mine.” And he could do nothing but nod agreement before flipping Stiles over onto his back and taking his mouth in a searing kiss.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Well it would appear that my muse likes Sterek even though she’s not coming up with full stories at the moment—just snippets like this.. Come and play over on my [Tumblr](http://skmanganelli.tumblr.com)


End file.
